As An Old Enemy
by Liete
Summary: -UK/US, delinquent AU- 'The weekend has been both short and too long at the same time, and he has enough issues with his own insecurities without someone else intervening and making things more difficult.'


**As An Old Enemy  
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**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

**A/N: This is Blulious's request for my tenth anniversary!****  
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Life's a bitch and then you die.

Words to live by, Arthur reminds himself sometimes. That, and people will always find ways to disappoint you, so there's no point in forming any attachments.

It's too early to be awake again, Arthur realizes with a groan as he opens his eyes to darkness once more. Alfred is still sprawled across his chest, so he can't even think of moving, not that he particularly wants to. His arm feels a little numb, but he's able to lift it enough that he can rake his fingers in Alfred's hair.

_Mine_, he thinks for a moment, but then remembers Alfred's words from that day in the alleyway. Alfred doesn't belong to anyone, so while Arthur would like nothing more than to keep his lover to himself forever, those sort of thoughts are more destructive than they are helpful. Arthur turns and kisses Alfred's forehead, then leaves his face there and closes his eyes.

Of course he'll never tell Alfred that he'd once been a child who believed in fairies and unicorns, and that magic could happen to make all your dreams come true. That he'd once loved his brothers and parents, but that had backfired. That one day his mother never came home and he'd been confused over all the yelling that had occurred, too young to understand why the brothers that had played with him before were hurting him instead. It wasn't until he got a little older that he realized that their mother had abandoned them and his brothers thought it was his fault. He hates her. Hates her for leaving them, leaving _him_, because since she left he's closed himself off. If the people who are supposed to love you no matter what hurt and abandon you, then there's no way he can trust anyone else.

As if hearing his thoughts, Alfred stirs slightly and nuzzles Arthur's chest before he goes still again, and the action makes Arthur's heart ache. Alfred deserves so much better than worthless, unloved Arthur Kirkland. Thus begins another battle of warring thoughts in his mind. On the one hand, he wants to trust himself to Alfred, because Alfred loves him so much now that it's hard to think of Alfred actually hurting him. No longer loving him, yes, but hurting him? On the other hand are the much louder thoughts that tell him that happiness is fleeting and getting hurt is an inevitability.

Either way he's sick of it. With some effort he crawls out from underneath Alfred, pausing to make sure Alfred doesn't wake up when his brows furrow, and retrieves a pair of boxers discarded on the floor, whether his or Alfred's he doesn't notice or care. In his jacket in the hallway closet are his cigarettes and lighter, which he fishes out gratefully and then slides open the door to the balcony. He takes a seat on one of the folding chairs and with trembling fingers he lights up a cigarette and takes a deep drag, happy at least for the nicotine he knows he can always count on to calm him down.

He folds his hands and rests his chin against them as he smokes. He stays in that position long after the cigarette is gone and the horizon starts to turn pink. He lets his mind go blank and stares at nothing, that is until a bare foot comes into his field of vision and he looks up to see Alfred smiling hesitantly at him.

"Good morning!" Alfred says brightly and then fidgets. "You weren't there when I woke up, so…"

"Couldn't sleep," Arthur replies and stares back down at the cement flooring of the balcony.

"Sorry if I was kicking you again," Alfred laughs nervously and Arthur knows without looking that he's scratching at his head.

Arthur shakes his head. "You weren't."

"Oh. Good."

Then silence falls on them and Arthur feels that biting anxiety gnawing at his stomach that this isn't working out because they're always too awkward with each other and he has no one to blame but himself for that.

But Alfred shifts his weight and clears his throat so that Arthur looks up at him. The smile on Alfred's face is affectionate, not awkward, and Arthur just stares dumbly at him.

The next thing he knows, Alfred is pulling up the other folding chair next to him and taking a seat. So close he can feel the warmth radiating off Alfred's arm.

"You're happy, right? With me, I mean," Alfred asks tentatively, and Arthur can see the way his hand twitches on the armrest. Arthur pauses.

He wonders, _is_ he happy with Alfred? Is happiness being together even though they (_he_) can't communicate? He has never really defined what happiness means to him, but he knows, at least, that _this_, what they have now, isn't really happiness. It's far more than what he'd had before, what he never wants to go back to, but no, he isn't happy. Not really.

He has a feeling that Alfred isn't really happy either.

"I won't be leaving you, if that's what you mean," he finally replies, and Alfred looks both disappointed and relieved at that statement.

"I know," Alfred replies softly. The hand that is twitching on the armrest reaches over to carefully take Arthur's hand, twining their fingers and squeezing gently. Arthur regards their entwined hands for a moment, then snaps back his hand as if shocked. Alfred _does_ look openly hurt then, but he quickly stands and averts his face.

"You have to work today, right? I'll make you something to eat," Alfred says briskly and then disappears into their flat.

"Fuck," Arthur swears and slams his fist roughly against the armrest, ignoring the pain that sears through his hand at the action. A kiss and making love won't fix this, he knows. It's merely covering the wound, not treating it.

Alfred is back to his usual self by the time Arthur drags himself inside, and thus Arthur is again served more breakfast then he'll ever be able to stomach, no matter how long he's with Alfred. As usual, everything is _glistening_ by how much butter it's all swimming in. As usual, Arthur scowls in distaste as he picks up his fork and pokes through a stack of pancakes for one that has less butter and syrup than the others.

"I was going to get some groceries today, any requests?" Alfred asks brightly, almost _too_ brightly, as he takes his seat across from Arthur and helps himself to the mountain of food.

It's funny how much of a housewife Alfred is at times, although it's only because Arthur can't be trusted to do those sort of things that Alfred takes most of the domestic tasks on his shoulders. Considering how many pans he's destroyed just trying to make a condensed can of soup, it's all for the best, even if Arthur feels guilty that Alfred is both working and going to school on top of taking care of practically everything else.

"Ah, I seem to be running low on tea," Arthur responds and Alfred voices his agreement.

Arthur manages to eat a couple pancakes and some eggs for Alfred's benefit, then he quietly excuses himself so he can get ready to go to work. His tiny contribution to their relationship, even though his simple stocking job doesn't bring in all that much money. At least it's honest work, he tells himself. It keeps him from drifting back into old, bad habits when Alfred is at work or school.

When he goes back out, Alfred is sitting on the sofa watching cartoons and munching on one of those toaster pastries that he insists on buying in bulk.

"I'll be leaving then," Arthur states and Alfred snaps to attention immediately. He drops the pastry and rushes to Arthur's side. He gives Arthur a quick kiss, brushing crumbs from his snack onto Arthur's lips as he does so, and grins as he pulls away.

"See you later!" Alfred chirps brightly.

Arthur nods as he leaves and then he lets the scowl he'd been repressing make its way onto his face. He brushes the crumbs off his face instead of licking them away like he really wants. Alfred is a terrible actor. He's upset and it's glaringly obvious, but just like that, Alfred won't say that something is wrong either.

So he just has to get through a day of work without dwelling on his anxieties over his relationship with Alfred, which is usually easy when his co-workers are assholes who would rather goof off than actually work, leaving Arthur to damage control. As far as Alfred knows, Arthur gets along swimmingly with the blokes he works with. He doesn't need to know that each day is actually a test of whether Arthur will stab someone with a box cutter or not.

After work, Arthur has more or less decided on a way to patch things up with Alfred. At least for the night, since they'll inevitably hit a roadblock again tomorrow.

He'll take Alfred out for the night. They'll dine at that hamburger place that Alfred won't shut up about, but Arthur has always refused to go to. Then he'll let Alfred decide what to do next, which he imagines will involve walking aimlessly while Alfred chatters. Similar to what they did when Alfred was still in high school.

But as he turns the key in the lock to their flat, he hears unknown voices from within. He freezes and assumes the worst, the blood draining from his face as his stomach drops somewhere near his feet. Alfred couldn't be…

He slams the door open and rushes inside, where he spots a handsome couple sitting calmly on the sofa while Alfred sits on one of the chairs from the kitchen table. All three pairs of eyes turn to regard the new presence in their midst while Arthur simply gapes. His question about the identity of these people is answered before he can even ask it.

"Hey, Arthur! Welcome home! Um, these are my parents!" Alfred says hesitantly, his smile sheepish. He turns back to the man and woman on the sofa and gestures back towards Arthur. "Mom, Dad, this is Arthur…my boyfriend."

The woman…Alfred's mother looks as aghast at that statement as Arthur feels. Her gaze shifts incredulously from Alfred to Arthur, where she looks him up and down, then she looks back at Alfred. Arthur can tell that she's in shock that her son is in a relationship with rough looking person like him. Meanwhile Alfred's father looks simply stern.

"Pleasure to meet you," Arthur manages to choke out, though it comes out hoarser than intended. All he gets in return are curt nods.

"Mom and Dad decided to pay us a visit! Pretty cool, huh?" Alfred says, but the look he gives Arthur is both desperate and apologetic.

Alfred's mother seems to regain her composure, because she clears her throat and says, "Alfred, darling, be a dear and get our luggage out of the car, won't you?"

"Oh sure! Arthur can help me!" Alfred responds instantly and Arthur is immediately grateful for the opportunity to escape.

It's Alfred's father who speaks up that time and his tone leaves no room for argument. "Actually, son, we were hoping to speak with your…friend for a moment and get to know him a bit more."

Alfred swallows and he gives Arthur a look that begs forgiveness. Arthur just stares helplessly back at him.

"All right, but I'll be _right back_," Alfred says more to Arthur than to his parents, then he sprints for the door and vanishes.

Arthur follows him with his eyes until his back disappears out the door and then he turns back to meet the eyes of Alfred's parents. With Alfred gone, they aren't even bothering to hide their distaste, which is so strong that Arthur sinks into the chair that Alfred had been sitting in, his knees suddenly too weak to sustain him.

"Tell me…Arthur, was it? What do you think of Alfred?" Alfred's father asks and he rests his chin on his hand. Clearly whatever Arthur says next is his make it or break it first impression to make up for his haggard appearance.

_I love your son. I love him so much it hurts_, is what he wants to say, a way to plead his case, but just as he can't say the words to Alfred himself, he can't say them to Alfred's parents either.

"I have no intentions of leaving him," he says instead, and he internally cringes at the arrogant way in which the words come out. Like a challenge, just _daring_ them to find a way to separate him from Alfred.

"Now you see here-" Alfred's mother starts to say, but Alfred's father holds up his hand to stop her.

"Calm down, dear. I wouldn't worry. You know how Alfred is with his phases. He'll grow out of it eventually," the man replies with a pointed look in Arthur's direction, taking Arthur's challenge and throwing it right back in his face.

Arthur freezes. Of course he's known all along that one day Alfred will stop loving him, but somehow hearing it from someone else drives the point home and makes it so tangible that he suddenly can't breathe. He's just a phase, a lark that Alfred will inevitably become bored with. Confirmation from Alfred's parents themselves.

But then they look almost pleased at what is probably his apparent dismay and feelings of anger start to bubble inside of him. Was that their plan all along? To come in and break the two of them apart? It would be very easy to do so at this point, when very fine threads are all that is holding them together. His hands curl into fists at his sides.

Before he can snap at them, the door slams open and Alfred appears, breathing heavily and dragging suitcases in his hands.

"Got 'em! Let me show you where you'll be sleeping while you're here, Mom and Dad!" Alfred says and his parents give Arthur one last odious look before they follow their son. Arthur watches as Alfred nearly leads them to their bedroom, but then pauses at the last second. It would be a very bad idea to take them there, not when they keep condoms and lubricant in the nightstand and the sheets are still soiled from the previous night's activities. He quickly opens the door to the yet unused second room and ushers them inside.

Once they are apparently settled, Alfred rushes back to Arthur's side and runs a hand through his hair. The action soothes Arthur somewhat, but his nerves are still frazzled from his very brief conversation with Alfred's parents.

"They'll just be here for the weekend, they'll leave first thing Monday morning…I'm really sorry, Arthur. I had no idea. Matt must have told them where we live or something," Alfred says in a hushed tone and looks back anxiously at the door to the second bedroom. "Anyway, I better sleep on the couch until they're gone."

Arthur snaps his head up to look directly at Alfred, who smiles weakly in reply.

"_I'll_ sleep on the sofa," Arthur insists. He can only imagine what Alfred's parents would think if their son was reduced to sleeping on a sofa while the ruffian takes the bed.

"Really, Arthur, it's okay, I'll-"

"_I'll_ do it, Alfred. We won't argue about this," Arthur interrupts and swats Alfred's hand away. That hurt look returns to Alfred's face, but he nods in agreement.

Alfred's parents re-emerge and his mother announces that she'll be making dinner. Alfred immediately volunteers to help. Alfred and his mother busy themselves in the kitchen, while Arthur remains planted on the chair, avoiding the gaze of Alfred's father, who takes a seat on the sofa again and occasionally glances over at Arthur. Arthur feels as though he'll throw up, and it's only with a great deal of willpower that he's able to eat anything.

Alfred manages to steer the dinner conversation away from Arthur and their relationship, but it's obvious that the second Arthur is gone they'll descend upon Alfred and demand that he end everything and end it quickly.

The air is thick with tension as they all bid each other goodnight, and Alfred gives Arthur a mournful as he heads for the bedroom alone. Arthur simply sighs and sets up the spare blanket and pillow as best he can on the too small to sleep on sofa. He lies down and stares up at the ceiling.

Perhaps this is a sign. He and Alfred aren't meant to be together, and Alfred's parents were sent to break them up for a reason. Alfred will go back home and resume a normal life with a normal girlfriend and he won't ever have to worry about the farce of a relationship he has with Arthur ever again.

Arthur swears colorfully and then rolls over, though that does little to make him more comfortable. It's not just that the sofa is too small, it's as he thought before. He can't sleep without Alfred next to him, around him. Even with that invisible space between them, he still needs (_needs_) Alfred near him. He laughs bitterly as he flings himself onto his back again and stares at the ceiling, wondering if Alfred is feeling the same.

It's going to be a long night.

* * *

He never thought he'd be so glad to have to go to work as he is when he awakens the next morning. He manages to sneak out before either Alfred or his parents are awake, and he buys himself a breakfast sandwich at a nearby gas station. He's alarmed to find that he actually _misses_ Alfred's butter drowned cooking when he bites into the sandwich. But food is food, and he needs at least something in his stomach to make it through the long day.

Even when work ends, he tries to find excuses to not go home. He's good at that, he used to do it all the time when he wanted to avoid his father and brothers after all, but there's a rather large difference between finding legal distractions and dodging the police for his own amusement. Finally he gives up and returns.

At dinner, Alfred's parents look every bit as unimpressed as they did the day before, perhaps even more so. Meanwhile Alfred looks ill, slightly pale and with bags under his eyes. His usual energetic inhalation of his food is reduced to picking at his vegetables and grunting when his mother tells him to stop acting so childish.

It's only Saturday and already they're all miserable.

Once again, Arthur spends the night staring at the ceiling and missing Alfred, but this time there's no work to look forward to the next morning.

* * *

The next morning he gets up early again so he can sneak into their bedroom and get a clean outfit. When he enters the room, he finds Alfred sitting up in bed. He looks even worse than he did the night before, but some of that is diminished when his eyes light up at the sight of Arthur. He clambers out of bed and rushes towards him.

Alfred's eyes flicker to the door, then he quickly tilts Arthur's face and kisses him. His kiss is every bit as achingly tender as it always is, but this time Arthur makes no moves to pull away. It's only been a couple days, but he's so starved for Alfred's touch that he almost wants to shove the boy back onto the bed and not give a damn about the consequences if Alfred's parents were to walk in and see him fucking their son into the mattress.

But then Alfred pulls away and smiles gently at him.

"I'm sorry about all this. Mom and Dad are just really old fashioned. They'd prefer that I have a girlfriend to propose to instead," Alfred says bitterly and stares angrily at the floor. Arthur's heart, meanwhile, leaps at the mention of a proposal, though he knows that Alfred doesn't mean that he's planning to propose.

"Just one more day and this will be over," Alfred murmurs and quickly swoops in to kiss Arthur one last time. "I'm going to run and get some donuts real quick, okay? I'll be right back."

Arthur nods mutely and watches as Alfred haphazardly pulls on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then rushes out the door. Arthur retrieves the clean clothes he'd been seeking and heads for the bathroom. After a quick shower, he is greeted with the sight of Alfred's father in the hallway, watching him with a stern gaze.

"You do realize that his life will go nowhere if he's with you?" the man asks, but it's more of a statement than a question.

Arthur swallows and lifts his chin defiantly. "I will not hold Alfred back from anything."

"We shall see, won't we?" the man replies, his tone thick with incredulity.

Arthur squares his jaw as the man pushes past him into the bathroom and he's tempted to punch the damn door as it's closed behind him. He needs a smoke, and needs one badly. He quickly retrieves his cigarettes and leaves the flat to smoke outside where he won't be bothered by anybody.

When he finally sees fit to go back up, he pauses at the door, hearing raised voices, Alfred's among them, from within. He frowns and decides to go back out instead. He only gets partially down the hall before the door to their flat opens and Alfred emerges, looking thoroughly incensed.

"Fucking 'a, what the hell are they thinking?" Alfred mumbles to himself, then his gaze falls on Arthur and relief replaces the anger on his face.

"Arthur! Where'd you go?" he cries and closes the distance between them. Arthur simply turns and keeps walking.

"You should listen to your parents, Alfred," Arthur says shortly and makes for the stairwell. He's momentarily halted when Alfred sprints in front of him and gives him a shocked look.

"What do you mean I should listen to them? They don't know what they're talking about! You didn't listen to your parents, right?"

"My father is a drunkard and my mother is a whore. There's hardly a comparison," Arthur snaps in reply, genuinely irritated that his parents are being dragged into this, too. The less he has to think about them, the better. "You're being childish, Alfred."

"I'm not being childish! I'm tired of _other_ people deciding what's best for _me_. It's my life, not anyone else's! I just want to live with my damn boyfriend, is that so much to ask?" Alfred says a little hysterically and starts to gesticulate wildly.

"The world is not comprised solely of you, Alfred," Arthur says coldly, colder than intended, but it's too late to take it back now. Alfred stops flailing and stares blankly at Arthur, then he abruptly turns and slams the door to the stairwell open. Arthur hears him stomping down the stairs and he sighs.

They really aren't meant to be together, are they?

Instead of following Alfred, he instead makes his way back into the flat, where Alfred's parents are arguing with each other. They stop when Arthur enters and they regard him coldly.

He takes a deep breath and doesn't shy away from the cold glances they give him. The weekend has been both short and too long at the same time, and he has enough issues with his own insecurities without someone else intervening and making things more difficult. He wants things to work out with Alfred, and they need to know that.

"I…I love your son. I love him and I want to be with him. I know that won't last forever, but I won't let anything come between us in the meantime," he states and holds his chin up, issuing another challenge that he won't let get thrown back at him again.

"That's not your decision to make," Alfred's mother replies and his father nods in agreement. Both are not phased by his words, but he's said them. He's said it out loud. He loves Alfred. He smirks and leaves them to their devices, he's going to avoid them for the rest of the day.

* * *

When he returns to the flat again much later, he is greeted by darkness and silence. He frowns as he flickers on the lights and it's then that he notices the note attached to the refrigerator.

_Mom and Dad decided they wanted to leave early. I'm dropping them off at the airport and then I'll be right back._

_-Alfred_

He crumples the note in his fist and stares at the clock. Ten, a little late for a flight. He imagines that Alfred's parents managed to convince him at the last minute that he needed to return with them and, after what happened in the hallway earlier, Alfred agreed.

He flings himself onto the sofa and clutches at his head with one hand. Had he known that things would be this complicated, he would have avoided that boy after their first meeting in front of that fast food restaurant years ago. He was desensitized to his misery then, he could have gone on living like that forever. Now his misery is tangible, magnified by thoughts that he may never see Alfred ever again.

But just as he's resigned himself to a life alone, the door opens and Alfred trudges through. He sighs deeply and leans against the door as he closes it. Arthur stares at him until their gazes meet.

"So that's it," Alfred says wearily.

"They just want what is best for you," Arthur replies.

"You're what's best for me," Alfred says with an air of finality that makes Arthur sigh both in frustration and defeat.

"Childish," Arthur remarks.

"Am not," Alfred retorts and Arthur scoffs.

Before Arthur can think up anymore scathing comments, Alfred closes the distance between them and easily sweeps Arthur up into his arms bridal style. Arthur squawks in surprise and embarrassment and tries to flail his way out of Alfred's firm grip.

"Put me down, you fool!" he snaps.

"Nope," Alfred says and he indeed doesn't put Arthur down until he reaches their bedroom, then he plants Arthur onto their bed and jumps on next to him.

"What the hell was that for?" Arthur asks indignantly, but he gets his answer as Alfred pulls him into his arms and snuggles his neck.

"I missed sleeping next to you," he murmurs quietly and Arthur swallows. Yes, that's right. Now that Alfred's parents are gone, he won't have to lie awake all night. He doesn't wrap his arms around Alfred, not yet, but he does shift a bit closer.

"…as did I," he replies quietly, but he knows that Alfred hears him when he smiles against his neck. Because Alfred can't see him, he smiles, too.


End file.
